Tuesday, November 15, 2016

Truth is the radiant manifestation of reality.

Why do the heathen rage, and the people imagine a vain thing? Psalm 2:1

Pure and genuine love always desires above all to dwell wholly in the truth whatever it may be, unconditionally. Every other sort of love desires before anything else means of satisfaction, and for this reason is a source of error and falsehood. Pure and genuine love is in itself spirit of truth. It is the Holy Spirit. The Greek word which is translated spirit means literally fiery breath, breath mingled with fire, and it represented, in antiquity, the notion which science represents today by the word energy. What we translate by ‘spirit of truth’ signifies the energy of truth, truth as an active force. Pure love is this active force, the love which will not at any price, under any condition, have anything to do with either falsehood or error. –Simone Weil

O hidden love of God, let me welcome every influence of Thy Spirit upon my own. When Thou doest knock at my heart’s door, let me not keep Thee standing without but welcome Thee with joy and thanksgiving. Let me keep no corner of my heart closed to Thine influence. Do what Thou wilt with me, O God; make of me what Thou wilt, and change me as Thou wilt, and use me as Thou wilt, both now and in the larger life beyond, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. –John Baillie

So today I got a very clear idea of what it feels like to be locked out.

The little room that I am staying at right now has this very cool, very high-walled outdoor shower, so at four thirty this morning I decided to bathe under the stars, bubbling hot water and the dark night and twinkling lights overhead. Delightful. Until it was all over, and I turned to go back inside. The door was locked.

Stark naked, dripping wet, thinking up options.

All the doors were locked. Even my car, parked in the alley was locked. I toyed briefly with breaking one of the double-paned windows to the bathroom, but really.

So I clambered up and over the ten-foot wall, briefly thinking about maybe borrowing some of the neighbor’s clean laundry to cover myself and walk over to the kids’ house. Then I remembered that my brother had found the owners’ spare key in its secret hidden spot. Perhaps I could fashion some sort of outfit out of the curtains piled in a corner of the empty house. So I pulled myself up and over the backyard wall, grateful that all of the neighbors were tucked soundly into bed.

Then, I remembered the wobbly window air-conditioner unit, so I tugged it out and crawled in through the hole.

The point of this story is, I would stop at nothing to get inside.

The point of His story is, He will stop at nothing to get inside. Nothing. The cross is proof of His love lifted up. Nothing.

And now that He has been welcomed in, let me keep no corner closed to His influence.

Cast Your light into all of the shadows of my heart.

Let me dwell in the truth, whatever it might be.

Holy Spirit, fall afresh.

A fiery breath, breath mingled with fire.


O divine Love who doest everlastingly stand outside the closed doors of the souls of men, knocking every and again, wilt Thou not now give me grace to throw open all my soul’s doors? Tonight let every bolt and bar be drawn that has hitherto robbed my life of air and light and love. –John Baillie